" Thou saidst thou could sing me out of hell: I prithee sing thyself out of the well. Sing out," quoth she, " with all thy might. Or else thou'rt like to sing there all night."

The fryer sang out with a pitiful sound,«

" 0 help me out, or I shall be drown'd." [" I trow," quoth she, " your courage is cool'd ;" Quoth the fryer, " I never was so fool'd. " I never was served so before ;" " Then take heed," quoth she, " thou com'st here no more."■»

Quoth he, " For sweet St. Francis sake,

On his disciple some pity take : "

Quoth she, " St. Francis never taught

His scholars to tempt young maids to naught."

The friar did entreat her still«

That she would help him out of the well: She heard him make such piteous moan, She help'd him out, and bid him begone.